I'm starting to believe that this is a way for two people to communicate and come to a compromise, although for some reason, that never seems to be how it turns out.
All of the problems of this morning disappeared this afternoon-- and were replaced by more concrete, unmanageable problems.
Suddenly I'm wondering, how much do I want my Penn degree? And if I can get a degree, how much do I want the degree I chose?
Happiness, as I keep on realizing, is largely the ability to accurately value everything in our lives. Well, more than that-- it's the ability to relatively value things accurately. That is-- how much do I value the degree I chose over the opportunity that's presented itself? How much do I value the ability to graduate in a semester versus having to take summer classes? How much do I value that ability to make money (with a job) versus losing money paying rent in two different cities?
And then, how much do I value my future? And how can I even try to value my future when I don't know what's going to create a future or where along the line I'm going to make a mistake?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Wednesday. My Day Off.
Just for the record, I swear that as soon as I finish writing this, I am going to Starbucks, getting a GIANT chai tea, and writing at least three more pages of Mr. Mao. I'm saying it upfront so the entire world knows it and I can't back out.
The past 24 hours with me would be a psychologist's dream. Actually, just this morning provides an adequate example--
I couldn't sleep last night. I woke up early, probably because of the weird dreams. Unable to concentrate at home, I walked to Starbucks. When I found out that I wasn't going into work today, I walked back home. Then, decided to go shopping. I got my hair cut at a completely random place, a walk-in, where I confessed all my problems to the hairdresser (if you don't know me, that is very unusual). I also bought a second pair or earings to wear in the double piercings that I never wear. I contemplated re-piercing my nose, but decided against it. I'm sitting here re-reading the description of my day, eyebrows raised, wondering if I sound as crazy as I think I do.
Really, this is all coming from some weird insecurity that I'm not "cool" enough. I know it, but I'm not strong enough to fight against it.
I'm doing stupid ineffective things like getting my hair cut and buying earings to try and answer the question: Am I the kind of person who throws their plans out the window?
I used to be. That's why I was contemplating the nose piercing. Freshman year of college I decided to get my nose pierced-- that was the weekend I'd decided to cut class and convinced Adam and Monica to go to DC. I just walked into a place and did it. Of course, things like that don't work out with me. It got infected and one thing led to another... Even so, I wonder if I'd still have it today.
Okay, let's be honest. Here's what I'm actually trying to ask: How are we supposed to make happiness-based decisions? I wrote a week ago that there is no future, but I'm realizing now that that's not entirely true. Even if the future is an abstract concept, eventually it becomes the present, and in the present we have to face decisions we made in the past. Duh. But how are we supposed to know what's going to make us the happiest?
I'm facing a decision that's so obvious it seems stupid I'm conflicted about it (with the exception that I might not graduate from college). There's every reason to go one way, except-- how much do I care about my relationship? How in love am I, and am I about to ruin that, again? These days, they tell girls that careers should come first; that we should never compromise "who we are" for someone else. But what if that other person has become a part of who we are? What do we do then?
The past 24 hours with me would be a psychologist's dream. Actually, just this morning provides an adequate example--
I couldn't sleep last night. I woke up early, probably because of the weird dreams. Unable to concentrate at home, I walked to Starbucks. When I found out that I wasn't going into work today, I walked back home. Then, decided to go shopping. I got my hair cut at a completely random place, a walk-in, where I confessed all my problems to the hairdresser (if you don't know me, that is very unusual). I also bought a second pair or earings to wear in the double piercings that I never wear. I contemplated re-piercing my nose, but decided against it. I'm sitting here re-reading the description of my day, eyebrows raised, wondering if I sound as crazy as I think I do.
Really, this is all coming from some weird insecurity that I'm not "cool" enough. I know it, but I'm not strong enough to fight against it.
I'm doing stupid ineffective things like getting my hair cut and buying earings to try and answer the question: Am I the kind of person who throws their plans out the window?
I used to be. That's why I was contemplating the nose piercing. Freshman year of college I decided to get my nose pierced-- that was the weekend I'd decided to cut class and convinced Adam and Monica to go to DC. I just walked into a place and did it. Of course, things like that don't work out with me. It got infected and one thing led to another... Even so, I wonder if I'd still have it today.
Okay, let's be honest. Here's what I'm actually trying to ask: How are we supposed to make happiness-based decisions? I wrote a week ago that there is no future, but I'm realizing now that that's not entirely true. Even if the future is an abstract concept, eventually it becomes the present, and in the present we have to face decisions we made in the past. Duh. But how are we supposed to know what's going to make us the happiest?
I'm facing a decision that's so obvious it seems stupid I'm conflicted about it (with the exception that I might not graduate from college). There's every reason to go one way, except-- how much do I care about my relationship? How in love am I, and am I about to ruin that, again? These days, they tell girls that careers should come first; that we should never compromise "who we are" for someone else. But what if that other person has become a part of who we are? What do we do then?
Monday, August 23, 2010
Train
Today, I made a bad decision. I can’t go back on it, so I’m trying very, very hard to live with it.
I’m currently (well, not currently as when this is posted, but currently as when I am writing this) on the train from LA to San Diego. It has some fancy name like Skyliner or Skynet; I don’t remember. The point is, I am stuck on a train going no more than forty miles an hour, without internet, and WITHOUT MY PHONE.
You’ve seen me post about my phone several times. I’m kind of attached. My phone was stolen last May and it was a very traumatic experience.
I realized I didn’t have my phone 5 minutes before the train left. I reached into my bag and voilà—no phone. Panicked, I emptied the bag, twice. I remember searching through the bag earlier this morning for the little pouch to put the phone in. I remember putting the phone in the pouch. I have no idea if I then put the phone into the bag. If I did not, it’s still at home. If I did, then it’s somewhere in my car, or mysteriously disappeared in the walk from the car to the train station. What could I do? I ran off the train. The conductor stopped me—obviously I was crazy. Who misses a train because they can’t find their phone? The next train was at 8:30, an hour from now. That would put me into San Diego at 10:30, which I had decided yesterday was too late. I stood on the platform, torn. Then I jumped onto the train.
Now I’m pouting on the top row of the train, listening to it hoot joyfully and I’m not quite so joyful. It sways back and forth and all I can think is that I don’t have my phone. Where could it be? What if I’m wrong and there’s a forth possibility and it’s completely lost and I never find it again? I try to reconcile myself to that possibility. I imagine jumping off the train and running back to Los Angeles. It would be possible and I was totally going to do it at the next stop, but the conductor just came by and clipped my ticket. I’m stuck. Phoneless. On a train.
The good news is, I can survive phoneless. I borrowed a friendly fellow passenger’s phone to call my mother (who didn’t answer, big surprise) and ask her to tell my Aunt that I’m coming in and beg Adam to track the phone—at least in two hours I will know exactly where it is. And, if anyone has taken my phone since it has been unattended, I can stalk them via the internet. As soon as I get off this damn train.
I’m currently (well, not currently as when this is posted, but currently as when I am writing this) on the train from LA to San Diego. It has some fancy name like Skyliner or Skynet; I don’t remember. The point is, I am stuck on a train going no more than forty miles an hour, without internet, and WITHOUT MY PHONE.
You’ve seen me post about my phone several times. I’m kind of attached. My phone was stolen last May and it was a very traumatic experience.
I realized I didn’t have my phone 5 minutes before the train left. I reached into my bag and voilà—no phone. Panicked, I emptied the bag, twice. I remember searching through the bag earlier this morning for the little pouch to put the phone in. I remember putting the phone in the pouch. I have no idea if I then put the phone into the bag. If I did not, it’s still at home. If I did, then it’s somewhere in my car, or mysteriously disappeared in the walk from the car to the train station. What could I do? I ran off the train. The conductor stopped me—obviously I was crazy. Who misses a train because they can’t find their phone? The next train was at 8:30, an hour from now. That would put me into San Diego at 10:30, which I had decided yesterday was too late. I stood on the platform, torn. Then I jumped onto the train.
Now I’m pouting on the top row of the train, listening to it hoot joyfully and I’m not quite so joyful. It sways back and forth and all I can think is that I don’t have my phone. Where could it be? What if I’m wrong and there’s a forth possibility and it’s completely lost and I never find it again? I try to reconcile myself to that possibility. I imagine jumping off the train and running back to Los Angeles. It would be possible and I was totally going to do it at the next stop, but the conductor just came by and clipped my ticket. I’m stuck. Phoneless. On a train.
The good news is, I can survive phoneless. I borrowed a friendly fellow passenger’s phone to call my mother (who didn’t answer, big surprise) and ask her to tell my Aunt that I’m coming in and beg Adam to track the phone—at least in two hours I will know exactly where it is. And, if anyone has taken my phone since it has been unattended, I can stalk them via the internet. As soon as I get off this damn train.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)